AN: I had to write this. I had to get it out of my system so I could focus on my ShikaSaku fic. And I wrote this about a month ago, too. It's on my deviantART page and sugoiweb. I wasn't going to post it here because I didn't know what the heck I was going to do with it, but... eh.

For now, this is a one-shot. But it might eventually turn into a prologue to a multi-chapter fic. If that happens, I'll probably revise it. But I think I'll keep the first-person perspective. Maybe try to turn it into a prologue/journal entry. (like Gaara would be the type to keep a journal — pft!)

And, yeah... I guess this would qualify as a Gaara/Sakura fic.

WARNING: Current manga spoilers (up to chapter 250).
.:.

I have stood here before inside the pouring rain
With the world turning circles running ’round my brain
I guess I’m always hoping that you’ll end this reign
But it’s my destiny to be the king of pain

— The Police, King of Pain (Synchronicity)

.:End This Reign:.

Acknowledgement. Most people are given acknowledgement simply by being born. A hungry newborn is shown acknowledgement when he is offered a milk-swollen breast. A distraught friend is shown acknowledgement when she is offered a warm embrace and sympathetic shoulder to lean on.

Acknowledgement is a basic, human reaction to another person. It is compassion, love, forgiveness, grief, anger, hate… It can be positive or negative. Uplifting or devastating. How one is acknowledged is the standard by which all humans measure their value.

Since I was a child, acknowledgement for me has been a mix of reverence, hate and fear. I was tolerated, but only because of the perceived benefits my uniqueness offered. When I cried for something I wanted, it was given to me. Not because anyone wanted to comfort me or show me kindness, but because to deny me meant to suffer the wrath of a child’s tantrum.

And in my case, tantrums led to death.

Human interaction — socialization — is wholly dependant upon acknowledgement. It helps to shape our personalities and establish ethical boundaries. If you hurt someone and they reject you, typically you alter your behavior to make amends or prevent another rejection in the future.

This is how you learn to be a better person.

I remember two specific moments as a child that played a fundamental role in shaping who I would become. My offer of kindness and friendship to a peer was met with fear and anger. My need to love and be loved in return was met with betrayal and resentment.

That was when I decided that if no one would acknowledge me in the way I craved, I would become what they accused me of being.

It was easy.

For as long as I can remember I have felt the yearnings to destroy and maim. I have felt the tide of hate within me, threatening to consume me if I dare sleep. It is exhausting to deny something so primal and dark. The only reason I was able to resist it as a child was because I feared it so much. I feared the consumption, the becoming of nothingness. I hated being at the mercy of the thing within me and the feelings of those around me. I hated being hurt and rejected. I hated being afraid of what I was. If I had been able, I would have killed myself. At least that way I could have some sort of control over my existence. But the release of death was an impossibility for me.

So there was nothing else I could do. Trusting… needing people was too painful. But hating them was easy. Hurting them was easy. And little by little, I gave in to the demon within.

It felt good. Satisfying. Empowering.

I couldn’t hurt myself, but I could hurt other people. I couldn’t kill myself, but I could kill other people.

And I enjoyed it. Craved it.

The power I felt when they realized I controlled their fate. The crunch of their bones. The squish of their innards. The scent of blood. The feel of it as it mixed with my sand…

And the thing trapped within me praised me for it. Acknowledged me for it. Encouraged me to do it again. If I was going to called a monster, than I would be a monster. If I was only going to be acknowledged in fear, than what fear they would feel!

With that power, I could ignore the loneliness. I could convince myself that I didn’t need anyone or anything. To need was to be weak. To be weak was to die. To die was to become nothing. To become nothing was akin to having an existence without purpose or acknowledgement.

I was not weak.

But then, neither was he.

And he should have been weak. He should have been an easy kill. I knew during the Chuunin exam, when I saw the tendrils of red chakra circulating around him like whips… there was something hidden inside of him, too.

But I believed him to be weak. Only the weak need people. Only the weak require a crutch.

So I dismissed him. Uzumaki Naruto. The Maelstrom.

I focused instead on the one I thought was like me. I saw the hate and loneliness in his eyes. I recognized myself when I looked and him. I knew he wanted to see if he deserved to live. If he was really stronger than the one he was dying to kill.

And I was happy to help him. Ecstatic. And he was capable of physically hurting me, too. Which made the violence all the more enjoyable. He wouldn’t cower or run. He would look me in the eyes as I imploded his body with my sand. It would be exquisite. To destroy him would be like destroying the part of me that I hated. How could I resist such temptation?

When the moment came for me to add his blood to my gourd, a girl with pink hair took up her kunai and protected him. A weak, pathetic girl looked me in the eyes and didn’t flinch. Didn’t cower. Didn’t run. She protected him like my uncle protected the school children. Instead of killing her, I pinned her to a tree and used her as leverage to get the fight I craved.

What I intended to be a source of entertainment for me ended up becoming an epiphany. When I was beaten, bloodied and exhausted, I realized who was weak. Uzimaki Naruto wasn’t the one begging not to be killed. He wasn’t the one asking who would save him.

I was.

And as he crawled toward me with tears in his eyes, I finally recognized him. I finally saw the hellish pain of my existence mirrored within him. Instead of him giving in to anger and hate as I had, he continued to reach out to people. Even if they hurt him. Even if they betrayed him.

He had the courage to love. Because of that courage, people did finally love him. Acknowledge him. And that love made him strong.

That was when I decided that I would be like him. I will live a life connected to my village, my people. I will earn their acknowledgement. And I will protect them.

It is far easier to lose trust than to gain it. Growing and changing as a human being isn’t something that can be seen with the naked eye. It has to be experienced in order to be perceived. After losing to Uzumaki Naruto, I wanted to change. I wanted to have the bonds he had. The relief he felt.

But saying that you have changed is the easy part. Living it is something else. I could feel the hope within me. I knew my encounter with Naruto had changed me, but it didn’t change the Shukaku. It didn’t change my shortness of temper or feelings of isolation and pain. Nor did it change how other people perceived me.

I couldn’t change the fact that my body housed the Shukaku, but I knew I could change myself, my habits. I knew that hopefully, with time, the people of my village would acknowledge and need me.

Changing the path of your life means navigating a road you are unfamiliar with. There will be times that you stumble and people doubt your sincerity. I accepted this. I forged onward. If Naruto could find relief from the loneliness, than I could, too. If I didn’t, than my existence would be nothing.

I would be a monster.

Reconciliation of the past began at home, with my own family and peers. It also bled into politics and diplomacy as I used my position as the most powerful shinobi of the Sand as leverage to cement amiable relations with the Leaf.

In the years I spent working to earn the acknowledgement of my people, I was forced to make peace with my past. Specifically with the betrayal of my uncle. I never thought that I would need her to help me make that peace.

Haruno Sakura, medical-kunoichi of the Leaf.

.:.

AN: To continue, or not to continue? (And if it is 'to continue' it would be after 'dawning' is finished.)